show no mercy

Basilisk Saxe had begun to learn that pure, unadulterated hate was not enough to win s fight. His revenge could not be enacted by pure rage and passion alone. Cataleya had wanted him to practice, and so he would, paws carrying his now full-grown form toward the battlefield. He had been here once before, but oh how he had grown -- and not just physically. In his first fight here, he had been arrogant and naive, but now he knew. Knew that he was no a skilled fighter, but would have to train himself to become one. It was the only way.

So he would raise his muzzle to the sky, parting his lips ever so slightly as a fierce call was released from his chest for an opponent. A fair rival, as Cross had been -- someone hopefully with little experience. It would do no good to fight someone who was completely helpless, nor would it be useful to fight someone with much more experience than himself. He would recline to his haunches, waiting the arrival of anyone who might be a worthy opponent.